Serendipity
by technicolorboy
Summary: When Roxas Strife finally meets Axel Skye, he discovers he really is the tall, handsome hero of his novel. And his dark sensuality and raw masculinity make him eager to explore every inch of his beautiful body. Really bad writer's block i'm working on i
1. Chapter One: Crusade

Serendipity

**Serendipity**

_By __**ShoujoQ**_

"_This is my first time writing a sexually explicit fanfiction, I have never written one before, not even a decent essay for that matter, so please don't gnash your teeth at me, okay?"_

Summary

When Roxas Strife finally meets Axel Skye, he discovers he really is the tall, handsome hero of his novel. And his dark sensuality and raw masculinity make him eager to explore every inch of his beautiful body…

Help

I need lots of help/suggestion(s). So anybody feel up for the job?

Does anybody want be my beta?

--

Chapter One Crusade

Roxas Strife didn't want to miss a thing. He wet the tip of a sharpened pencil on his tongue and steadied a writing tablet on his lap, ready to capture the last moments of his journey. But instead, he began to write the adventure playing out in his imagination.

-- Sora's nose wrinkled at the smell of stale beer and dust as he slipped behind the saloon and peered into the darkened room --

The stagecoach jolted as a wheel slipped into another deep run on the rough trail, sending his pencil scraping off the edge of the pad.

He sighed, resigned he'd have to commit the final moments of his journey to memory and pick up his protagonist's adventure after he arrived at his destination. He slid his tablet into the pocket of his satchel behind his mouse-shaped copy of "Kingdom Hearts", his latest, well only, publishing credit. He'd kept the novel in clear view in hopes of drawing a comment to give himself an opportunity to sell one of many copies he'd brought with him.

Not the mouse-shaped copy, that one contained penciled notes of the details he'd gotten wrong. For that was the purpose of this journey.

Roxas Strife had never traveled outside the city of Twilight Town, yet his first novelistic experience was an adventure tale set in the wild frontier, featuring a tall, handsome hero he'd only fantasized about. He needed to know whether he'd been wrong.

For all he knew, the real Axel Skye was a short, squat man who could suck his whiskey through the space where his front teeth ought to be. He'd braced himself the whole journey for disappointment because he'd built such high hopes he'd be the hero, he'd envisioned--the kind of man a real "Sora" would admire.

Tales of his wild youth, his talent with a 'chakram', his time spent scouting with Xemnas Xehanort for 'hearts' had fired his imagination since he'd come across the first mention of his name in the Twilight Town Tribune.

After that Roxas'd scoured every newspaper he could get his hands on, searching for a description of the man and his exploits.

Physical descriptions had been hard to come by; "burnished skin" and "the deadly stare of the green-eyed devil" hadn't told him whether his jaw was square or rounded, or his nose was a sculpted blade or broad and bumpy. And it would have been helpful to know whether Sora would have to lift his patrician chin to kiss his lips. Since he'd lacked definitive answers to his questions, in his mind he'd created an image of the man he wanted Axel to be.

However, news of his dangerous exploits had been much easier to find. The man had earned quite a reputation as a pyro as he'd roamed the different worlds.

Then last year, for some reason, he'd settled in Hollow Bastion, not Destiny Islands or any number of more recognizable worlds, but an unknown place with a whimsical name.

In his research, Roxas missed the reason for his inexplicable move. Now he wanted the truth for the sequel to his book and detailed description to bring his vivid adventures to life.

--

Roxas pulled back the curtain to take a look outside, blinking against a cloud of dirt stirred up by the stage's team of horses.

Bright sunlight dispelled the gloom in the interior of the stagecoach. Everywhere around them endless blue sky filled the view. The golden tips of the prairie grass rimming the trail waved in a slight breeze.

"Close that curtain! You're letting in the dust."

"As if we aren't already wearing a coat of gritty trail dirt?" Roxas thought as he bit his tongue against the retort.

Ever since Mr. Squall had boarded the stage in Sunset Hill, he'd offered a contrary comment to every one of Roxas' actions.

Roxas firmed his lips into a polite smile and turned to the grouchy man sitting on the opposite seat. "Aren't you the least bit curious about what's happening outside this coach?"

Mr. Squall snorted. "Curiosity killed the cat/"

Roxas lifted his eyebrows, which sent his spectacles sliding down his nose. The man had repeated the same tired old cliché as mystery figure in the opening scene of his dime novel.

Just like a character of the mystery figure, the man had a cliché for every occasion and nary an original thought. Another coincidence! An odd prickling raised the fine hairs at Roxas' neck.

While some of the less important details-the flora, the fauna, and the ruggedness of the trail-had most been wrong, the events in his story had been strikingly similar. The string of similarities between Sora's adventure and his own true-life adventure had at first amused Roxas, who'd been convinced he'd simply done his research and was an apt pupil of human nature.

But this time, the words were repeated as though they'd been scripted in advance. As well, the more Roxas thought about it, Mr. Squall was an exact replica of the irascible mystery man who'd complained throughout that first scene of his adventure novel.

Even Mr. Setzer who slept beside him resembled the handsome, debauched gambler who'd managed to snore throughout the last leg of the fictional journey despite the bone-rattling thuds of the lumbering stagecoach.

The one jarring detail that didn't match his story was the character of the hero. Roxas was far cry from the beautiful and spirited Sora. Sadly, he wasn't a brunette, or possessed of pure, porcelain complexion and soft, curvaceous figure. His own hair was a muddy blonde and his nose sprinkled with an unfortunate quantity of freckles. And he wasn't the least bit adventurous.

Still, if the story was somehow unfolding…

A loud banging sounded from the top of the coach. "Folks, we're coming up on Hollow Bastion," came the call from the driver.

Mr. Squall patted his hair while Mr. Setzer snuffled and opened his bloodshot eyes as he refastened his string tie.

Surreptitiously, Roxas reached for the edge of the window casing and held on tight…just in case.

Shots rang out, the coach jerked forward and back, and then shrill whinnies filled the air as the team lurched again and shot forward, sending screaming Mr. Squall into Mr. Setzer's lap.

Roxas suppressed a squeal of fright and held on. Then just as quickly, he relaxed, suddenly unafraid, because he knew how this would end.

A hero rode to their rescue.

Sure enough, shouts sounded outside-from the driver and another man whose horse ate up the distance between them in a staccato flurry of sharp hooves. Gradually, the team slowed, snorts and frightened whinnies settling like the dust sifting underneath the flapping leather curtains, until at last the stagecoach came to a stop.

Just like in his story.

Only Roxas didn't wait for their rescuer to fling open the door. He stood and grasped the door handle, nervous but determined to see whether the object of his obsession was indeed on the other side.

The door gave way unexpectedly, bringing him along with it, and he toppled out of the coach and straight into the arms of a very tall man. Thick, strong muscles surrounded Roxas as he swept him off his feet and held close to his solid chest.

Startled, Roxas glanced up, but his rasping breath fogged the lenses of his spectacles, and he groaned.

Why, oh why hadn't he put them away? Better to be blinking at the man than looking like a startled, befuddled mouse. Around the rims of his glasses, he noted the breadth of the said man's shoulders and the dark shadow from the hat shading his face.

"Are you alright, kiddo?" His voice was deep, raspy bass that seemed to wrap itself around Roxas like a raw caress.

"Axel?" he whispered, more sure of is identity than he'd ever been of anything in his life. He knew his voice-had heard it speaking in his imagination. Naturally, he smelled of sage and spicy soap. He'd written that as well.

"Do I know you?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

A wide, tremulous smile stretched Roxas' lips, and he slowly wound his arms around Axel's shoulders.

"No, but I know you, sir," he said, too excited to give more than a passing thought to his forward behavior.

The man's head tilted as though he were scrutinizing him. "He bump his head?" He directed the question to the people stepping from the coach.

"I don't think so," Mr. Squall said, his voice trembling and affronted at the same time. "But he's a very strange young man."

"Think you can stand on your own, kiddo?"

Roxas sighed dreamily. "Must I?"

A soft snort and Axel's arms tightened for a second; then he set Roxas on his feet, his hands settling at his waist to steady him.

Roxas sucked in a deep breath at the intimate touch. The heat of Axel's hands caused an immediate warming in his nether regions. Roxas' nipples peaked against his thin shirt. If just a simple, helpful touch could do this to him, what havoc would a more intimate caress wreak?

"Well, damn," Axel said softly, quickly removing his hands and standing back.

"Wait-" Roxas reached up for his glasses and took them off, blushing as he searched for a pocket to hide them away. When he squinted upward again, he was gone. His boot steps thudded, growing softer in the distance and mingling with the sound of the other people moving along the boardwalk.

He realized that for that short space of time, no one else had existed for him. All thought had stilled in his busy mind. He'd been exactly as he'd imagined. Well, as tall and strong as he'd imagined. And he was sure he still had his front teeth because he hadn't lisped.

He'd acted the hero, putting his own safety at risk to slow the stagecoach. He'd behaved exactly as he'd expected. Again, Roxas was reminded he was no Sora. His protagonist hadn't swooned into the hero's arms. He'd given him a brilliant smile and said something equally brilliant, which Roxas couldn't have remembered at that all-important moment to save his life. He'd been so filled with vibrant, glowing heat that he'd forgotten his purpose-and the fact that maybe he had the means to avert certain disaster.

He patted his pocket for his spectacles and choked on the dust he raised. No wonder the man had fled in such a hurry! Roxas was filthy and smelled as sour as old milk.

Glancing back at the coach, de decided to check into the hotel and give himself a quick scrub before setting out to find Mr. Axel Skye. He had a good idea where he'd be.

The man needed his insight into his future. But would he listen to him?

Another question burned a hole in his belly-was he as handsome as his heart and body said he was? And he'd imagined back in Twilight Town when he'd penned his novel in the wee hours of the night inside the tiny room he'd kept above her uncle's apothecary?

Of course, he was. His hands had felt him over and found him wanting. If only he were as lovely as Sora. In **his **first meeting with the hero, Roxas'd rendered Axel speechless as he's searched his fair countenance and committed it to memory before shaking himself out of his daze. He'd remembered at the last moment to extend his hand to help Sora glide gracefully from the stage.

Sora had shivered delicately as he settled his soft palm in his broad, calloused palm and given him a blinding smile. The smiling part Roxas had managed to get right. Although likely Axel'd stared at his puffy lips and wondered if he'd kissed a bee.

He sighed, hoping to earn at least his gratitude, if not his admiration, when he gave him the news that tonight he'd be drawing on a killer.

Axel Skye tied the reins to the hitching post in front of the sheriff's office and stomped up the wooden steps, feeling as ornery as a horse with a burr beneath its saddle. First order of business was to find out who fired the shots that spooked the runaway stagecoach.

Maybe then he could forget the softness of the boy he'd held in his arm as he'd melted all over him like sweet, warm molasses.

The first sight of the boy trembling from the door of the coach hadn't inspired so much as a spark of interest. The boy was mousy. His blondish brown hair straggled away from his face. His scrawny figure was hardly worth noting. However, close up, the sight of the blonde's slender nose dotted with golden freckles and the misting lenses of his wire-rimmed spectacles had forced a grin.

The smile the boy returned had been brilliant, scorching as summer sunlight. Suddenly, he'd felt light and fit just right in his arms. The way Roxas' wrapped his arms around his shoulder had sent an arc of electric heat straight to his loins. For a moment, he'd though the boy returned his interest.

Until he'd set him on his feet and held his tiny waist between his large hands. The boy's sharp gasp had felt like a splash of cold water.

Reminded he was tolerated for his skill with a chakram, he withdrew quickly, leaving the teen blushing and glancing away at the impropriety of his touch. Townfolk might turn a jaded glance when he diddled with a saloon whore, but decent folk would look askance if he set his sight on a young blonde boy.

The blonde's smile had been one of relief, not of interest returned. He'd do well to remember that and give the boy a wide berth. Besides, he had enough problems on his hands-drunks to turn out of jailhouse, a wild young town to tame.

As he walked into dim interior of his new office, he flipped the sign to let folks know he was in and reached for the keys hanging on a peg.

He had what he wanted right here. A chance at respectability after a checkered past. One reed-slim boy with lush pink lips wasn't going to put a spoke in his wagon's wheel.

--

**Explanations**

The reason that Sora's character is described 'too feminine' is because the inspiration for his character came straight from another fanfiction (I don't remember the name). In that fanfiction Sora moves from Traverse Town away from his boyfriend Leon, and moves to Destiny Islands and meets Riku, and crossdresses. Does anyone know the name? Anyway that's where it came from.

Suggested Listening

Listen to 'W' (Duo U&U) and 'Fujimoto Miki'

--

I'm a rookie; here's a cookie.

This fic. is new, so let's review!


	2. Chapter Two: Second Encounter

Serendipity

**Serendipity**

_By __**ShoujoQ**_

"This is my first time writing a sexually explicit fanfiction, I have never written one before, not even a decent essay for that matter, so please don't gnash your teeth at me, okay?"

Summary

When Roxas Strife finally meets Axel Skye, he discovers he really is the tall, handsome hero of his novel. And his dark sensuality and raw masculinity make him eager to explore every inch of his beautiful body…

**Dear Readers,**

Big hugs for reading, alerting and reviewing go to **Naxne**; **Kitty-Cat-Kauri**; **Spinner2009**; **Aindel S. Druida**; **TheKabbageKat**; **animeobsession**; **betsytheripper**; **LollipopLove**; **paupu fruits rox**; **Mana-Garmr**; **Ally Montgomery**; **Aly-Cooper**, and others… you make my brain laugh…very much.

**Must Read**

This whole story is written in general POV. Usually when you see 'he' it refers to Roxas, but whenever you see "**he**" **has to be in bold** or _he_ _has to be in italic_ after Axel's name it refers to Axel. It so hard to write considering that I have a tendency of writing he said-she-said, and if I used Axel said-Roxas said it would definitely not just sound awkward but it would take away from the Roxas's perspective.

--

**Chapter Two**

**Second Encounter**

A quick, darting glance around the edge of the window and Roxas spied his target. The redhead had **his** back to Roxas and was talking to a large man who tucked his wrinkled shirt inside his pants and hitched up his yellow suspenders.

When they moved toward the door, Roxas quickly drew back and straightened the hem of his neat, black-striped jacket. He'd settled on a staid, professional suit. No use in trying too hard to win an appreciative glance. He'd only look desperate.

In his hands Roxas held a copy of his novel. Not the precious mouse-shaped copy that was left behind in his hotel room. This was a fresh copy. He intended to give it to Axel along with a warning that, however unlikely it sounded, the events within its pages were coming true.

He wouldn't mention he was the novelist. That would be far too embarrassing. After reading it, **he** might guess correctly at his infatuation.

Oh, why had he extolled Axel's beauty and gone on and on about the strength in **his** taut, leanly muscled body? Axel'd wonder how an innocent teenager would know about the fires that heated the groin of the young protagonist at just the sight of his manly physique.

Never mind **he'd **figure that out quickly if Roxas couldn't remember how to breathe. Roxas was about to get his first clear view of that impressive body and handsome, angular face, and his insides trembled like jelly.

The door opened and the burly man with the yellow suspenders stepped onto the planked walkway, wincing at the sunlight. "Dammit, Axel. A man could go blind this time a day."

"Quit grousing, Cid. Next time watch who you pick a fight with when you're drunk."

"Who'd guessed that little pipsqueak had fists like a hammer." Cid rubbed his swollen jaw. "Must a caught me by surprise."

"I saw the whole thing," Axel said flatly. "You swayed right into his fist."

Cid winked. "Must have felt sorry for him."

"Whatever makes you feel better. Now get along."

"Sure have lost your senses of humor since you pinned on that star."

Roxas's eyes widened, and his gaze fell to the shining silver badge on Axel's chest. In his story, Axel'd been newly elected to the position.

Cid's glance passed over him, then paused. He grimaced as he reached to tip his nonexistent hat. "Howdy, sir."

Roxas nodded absently but kept his gaze on the hard-eyed man standing at the doorway with his arms folded over **his** chest. His heart fluttered like a butterfly's wings, and his palms grew moist. Gazing at last into his face, his breath caught.

He hadn't begun to do the man justice. Roxas was feeling a little light-headed, and more that a little intimidated by his male perfection. But how would he ever capture his masculine, sensual essence?

Standing hatless, **his** eyes squinted slightly against the bright sunlight; **he** took Roxas's breath away. **His** blazing crimson hair was as shiny as a scorching sun; descending spikes covered the sharp edges of **his **face, which was scraped clean of any softness by years of living in the outdoors. **His** cheekbones were equally sharp-edged and set high; **his **eyes emerald and brooding; **his** lips a firm, straight line.

Gradually, Roxas realized he'd stared too long. The remoteness of **his** expression chilled him. He didn't dare drop his glance below **his **jaw, although Roxas was tempted beyond common decency to do just that. Instead, he lifted his chin and returned **his** hard glare.

Axel's mouth slid into a small, mirthless smile, and **his** glance fell first, skimming over Roxas's frame then quickly dropping down his length and rising again to meet his widening gaze. Roxas hadn't missed the insult in that slow perusal, and his back stiffened.

Determined not to be the only one discomfited, Roxas gave **him **a slow, assessing look that trailed down his broad chest. However, the insult Roxas intended to return fell away as he quickly forgot why he'd engaged in the challenge.

The black vest Axel wore over a pale pin-striped shirt lovingly followed **his** shape, emphasizing the broad chest and narrow waist and hips.

Roxas's breath grew ragged as he paused over the juncture of **his** thighs, noting the large bulge that started beneath the placket of **his** dark pants and trailed down the right leg of **his** trousers.

His gaze snapped back up to Axel's.

One brow arched. "Is there something I can do for you, kiddo?" **he** drawled.

Roxas gulped. Something **he** could do? Kiss him breathless? Strip him naked? **His** glance had already accomplished both. Thank goodness he had some experience or he'd be entirely overwhelmed by Axel's…maleness.

Barely suppressing the urge to fan himself, Roxas stepped inside **his** office and thrust out the hand holding his novel.

Axel's brows knit in confused irritation. "Thank you, but I'm not one to read that sort of story." **His **thumbs slid into the front pockets of his dark trousers, his long fingers bracketing his impressive sex.

**He** was unnerving him, drawing his attention to the part of Axel he most wished he could explore—and the bastard knew it! Feeling flustered and angry because **he'd** managed to turn Roxas's curiosity against him, he huffed a breath.

"You're in it," he blurted, holding the novel higher.

Axel hesitated, his frown deepening. "All right, I'll have a look. Later." **He** lifted one hand, sliding it slowly over the outside of Roxas's before tugging the novel from his numb fingertips and dropping it on the desk behind **him**.

As Roxas let his hand drop to his side, his skin still tingled from the contact. So much so, he cupped his hand against his trembling stomach. "Everything in that book is coming true," he paused, and cleared his throat as his expression sharpened. "I know I sound a little…touched, but I felt I had to warn you."

"I'm pleased you sought me out, whatever the reason," Axel said, with that low growling rumble that passed for a voice. **He** stepped closer, reaching beyond him to close the door, his knees nudging Roxas's crotch.

His heart skipped a beat. Had **he** intended to do that?

"Is there anything else I can help you with, blondie?" **he** asked silkily, not moving away, but giving Roxas a look that melted his insides like butter on a griddle.

Although propriety demanded it, Roxas didn't want to step back. The contact of Axel's hard thigh, sliding along the inside of his was too…decadent. His knees shook, and he clamped them shut, trapping Axel's thigh between his. A little whimper tore from Roxas's throat as his cheeks flooded with heat.

**His** snort, soft and masculine, accompanied a tightening of his features. Suddenly, **he** seemed truly dangerous. Wholly male. Close enough now **his** breath brushed Roxas's lips, a ragged sigh slipped from him. Roxas closed his eyes. This was Axel after all.

"Damn," Axel whispered, and then **his** lips smoothed over the blonde's. The kiss was sweet, but not nearly enough to quench the riot of feelings swelling inside him. Roxas murmured and leaned closer.

Axel's hands settled at Roxas's waist then began to roam, gliding up along his sides. At his startled gasp, Axel's tongue stroked deeply into Roxas's mouth.

His thin, aching moan was muffled by Axel's deepening kiss. Then **his** thigh rose between Roxas's, surging deeper between his legs, pressing higher, until it grazed the hardening flesh.

Without thinking, Roxas loosened his grip on Axel's leg, and settled onto it, riding the hard, muscled thigh as it pressed upward to rub against his erection until it heated with the friction, and liquid arousal seeped through his boxers.

Axel murmured against his mouth and gripped Roxas's bottom harder, rocking his back and forth on **his** thigh.

Slowly, Roxas lifted his hands to grasp Axel's shoulders, sinking his fingernails into the sharp corners. His mind reeled as he tasted coffee on Axel's tongue and breathed in the soft scent of sage mixed with the tang of fading tobacco that clung to **his** skin. Roxas's body tightened while blood rushed to swell his heated cock.

Axel's mouth lifted from Roxas's, and he moaned a protest. His eyelids fluttered open to meet Axel's heavy-lidded gaze. **His** nostrils flared. A muscle flexed along the side of **his **jaw, and then **he** blinked–and drew sharply away, his leg withdrawing.

Once again, **his** hands gripped Roxas's waist to steady him as he swayed. "You've done your civic duty, young man. I'm much obliged."

"Duty?" he whispered, trying to gather his scattered wits.

"Your warning."

**His** words, rough as sandpaper, caused a delicious shiver. "Oh yes, my warning." Roxas shook himself, and added a bit of starch to his own raspy tone. "You'll read it?"

"Every word," Axel said, staring at his mouth.

"Quickly though," Roxas said, his breaths panting like an overheated kitten as he struggled for aplomb. "Tonight, there'll be trouble at the saloon."

Axel's eyes narrowed; **his** head canted slightly. "Who are you?"

Roxas's stomach lurched. He'd rutted against him like a cat in heat and they'd never really been introduced! "Roxas Strife," he croaked.

"Roxas?" **His** gaze skimmed Roxas's face. "Seems a fitting name."

Roxas wrinkled his nose. "Meaning it's plain, like me?" Or was **he** mocking him after he'd all but begged Axel to take him—here in broad daylight in full view of anyone walking past his office. Roxas wished again he were more like Sora—more handsome, more poised. Sora wouldn't be at a loss for words after the passion they'd shared.

Axel's hands gripped Roxas's shoulders and turned him, and then **he** gave his bottom a slap.

Roxas yelped and glared over his shoulder, the sensual haze that had held his tongue-tied lifting at his flare of anger. "What was that for?"

"So you'd know better than to stir up any trouble tonight. And stay away from the saloon."

"I'm not going anywhere near the saloon! There's going to be a killing."

One crimson brow rose, Axel's gaze hardened. "If there is, I'll know exactly who's responsible, won't I?"

Roxas's mouth gaped and heat flooded his cheeks, and he rounded on him. "You think I'm playing some sort of game?"

"I think you're trouble. And I don't abide anyone stirring up my town."

Watching angry color flood his cheeks, Axel grimaced, wishing **he** could adjust his cock.

The boy stirred up more than just trouble.

Why the hell had Axel tried to intimidate him? He'd thought sidling up close would make Roxas flee, but he'd gasped, his head tilted back, his eyes fluttering closed.

Axel hadn't been able to resist tasting those full lips. Damn, but they'd been every bit as soft and pliant as **he'd** imagined.

The fact Roxas'd let **him** do much more than kiss **him** had shocked Axel. Didn't the boy know the danger he courted?

However, the ridiculous claim of a novel telling the future made **him** wonder what Roxas's real purpose was. Was Roxas trying to get to know **him** better and seizing on a slim excuse? The thought was flattering, but **he** didn't want to dismiss the possibility of some more sinister reason.

Although the last thing Roxas seemed was menacing or dangerous. Roxas was reasonably handsome with innocence that had glowed in his wide-eyed stare even as Roxas'd invited **his **kiss and let **him** touch him intimately.

That air of innocence was belied as well by how quickly Roxas was recovering his poise. Sure, his cheeks remained reddened but his glance didn't slide away, and he didn't seem ready to turn his sweet tail and run.

Roxas's looks were growing on **him** by the minute. Axel took in the golden brown hair, itching to tug and let **his** fingers slip through the glossy thickness.

Axel's mouth watered as he wondered whether his little nipples would spike like short penny nails when **he **sucked on them.

Roxas was flustered with anger. "Sir, I'm trying to avert trouble."

Axel shoved his hands deeper in **his **pockets, attempting to subtly relieve the pressure building in **his** balls and cock.

"I said I'd read it. But right now, I need to find out who fired the shots that caused that runaway stagecoach."

"You promise you'll read it before tonight?"

"I'll try," **he** said, not wanting to outright lie. **He** had more important things to do.

Roxas blew out a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. "I hadn't dreamed you'd be this stubborn," he murmured

Axel reached past Roxas's for the hat hanging from the wooden coat rack next to the door, and smiled as Roxas's breath caught when his shoulder brushed so close he had to reach up to cling to him rather than topple backward.

"Sorry about that, kiddo," **he** said, tucking his hand around Roxas to steady him once again. "I'm kinda in a hurry."

The **he** swept past him, turned the sign, and opened the door.

"Is it true Xemnas Xehanort asked you to appear in his escapade?"

The question was sharp-edged and so disconnected from their previous discussion; **he **shot Roxas an irritated glance. "Yeah."

"Why'd you turn him down? He was your friend, wasn't he?"

"Friends don't ask friends to give up everything for them," Axel bit out, and slammed the door behind him, leaving Roxas inside his office.

The door opened and shut behind **him**, but **he** was already heading fast down the planked sidewalk. Roxas's question soured his stomach while not easing **his** growing arousal one bit.

Sharp taps sounded on the walkway as Roxas scurried behind **him**. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he said breathlessly. "Maybe he didn't realize you felt that way."

"You think he's some kind of hero?" **he** growled, shooting Roxas a glare over **his **shoulder.

"He scouted for the 'pure hearts'…so did you," Roxas said, trotting to stay with him.

Despite the fact that Roxas'd touched on a sore subject, his persistence began to amuse **him**, so Axel widened **his** strides to see whether he had to salt to keep up.

"We began searching for the 'purest hearts', we killed everything and everyone without hesitation and even left wide trail of rotting carcasses as a memento. What's so damn heroic about that?"

"I… guess I never looked at it…that way," Roxas said, his breath growing ragged. "Did it…sour you?"

"Might say that. Don't like talking about those days. And blondie, if you ask about the face-off with the Saïx, I won't be responsible for my language."

Roxas's chin lifted. "I'm not so…lily-livered."

Sunlight hit the golden strands in his mud-brown hair and glinted in the gold flecks in his aquamarine eyes as he kept apace.

Axel couldn't help himself from responding. The boy wasn't much to look at, but the boy's curiosity and dogged determination, added with his interest in **him**, stirred up a mighty heat, which licked along his thickening cock.

The boy didn't realize just how close **he** was to grabbing him and dragging him into an alleyway, just to see if he'd let him kiss him again. Which made **him** mad as hell. The boy didn't have an ounce of commonsense. Axel slowed **his** pace, **his **thoughts quickening.

Was he this open, this intensely focused on every guy he met? Did he knowingly leave himself vulnerable to a man's advances?

The again, Roxas was from Twilight Town. Perhaps guys there weren't quite as raw or as accustomed to taking what they wanted.

In the back of his mind was a seductive thought that perhaps Roxas knew exactly what he was asking for. "Did you already find yourself a room?" Axel ground out.

"…Yes," Roxas mumbled, "At the Dali Hotel…the second floor--"

"Fine." Axel was sure Roxas would have given his room number by the nervous way he blurted out the information.

"I hope you're comfortable during your stay," **he** said formally, wondering if he'd take the hint he ought to mosey along before Axel gave into the urge to hurry him into a dark place.

"Actually, Ms. Dali still has my trunk behind the counter. She was waiting for someone to come and take it up for me."

Axel stopped in **his** tracks and stared. Was he asking **him** up to his room? He sighed, exaggerating his inconvenience, and turned toward the hotel, letting Roxas follow once again in **his** footsteps.

As Axel entered the hotel, Ms. Dali's eyebrows rose. "Morning, Sheriff."

"Morning, Dahlia. Mr. Strife has a trunk you need some help with?"

"Yes, I was waiting for Cid to get here. No tellin' where he's got himself off to this time. Back's out again, or I'd have done it myself."

"I'll take care of it for you." Axel walked stiffly behind the counter, grabbed the large trunk by its leather straps, and hefted it onto **his** shoulders, giving Roxas a nod. "Show me where you want it."

His eyes widened. "I didn't mean for you to go to all this bother."

"You didn't? I thought all that fuss about your room was the whole point," Axel growled.

"Sir, I was just making conversation," Roxas said blushing.

Ms. Dali gave them both a sideways glance.

Roxas blushed and turned around with a flounce to precede **him** up the stairs, his head held high. At the top of the landing, Roxas turned to stalk down to the end of the long hallway.

Axel eyed the exit door at the very end of the hall. "She gave you this room? You know, anyone could walk in from the outside staircase.

"Well, I have a key, and Ms. Dali assured me this is a safe little town now that you're in charge." Roxas's hands shook as he unlocked the door. Once he managed to fling it open, he stood aside while Axel entered clasping **his** hands nervously.

"Where do you want it?"

His cheeks flushed strawberry red, but he indicated with a wave of his hand that Axel should lay the trunk on his bed.

"What do you have in this thing?" Axel asked, dropping it on the mattress. "Rocks?"

"Some books," Roxas said, his blush deepening.

"More of those novels?"

Roxas's lips pressed into a straight line.

Axel took Roxas's response as a yes, not questioning his taste in literature. "What is your business here, Mr. Strife?"

"Um…research. For a publisher."

That explained the books. And the questions. So maybe he hadn't been so much interested in **him** as a man, but as a notorious legend. Which made **him** madder. Axel tipped **his** hat and strode toward the door.

As Axel's hand reached for the knob, Roxas said quickly, "You will read the novel today, won't you?"

Glancing over **his** shoulder, Axel replied, "Like I said. I'll do my best."

Roxas stood looking as though he wanted to say something else. "Maybe if you just read the passage about what happens tonight…?

Axel gave another long sigh and turned, leaning **his **back against the door. "Why don't you just tell me the short version about what's suppose to happen tonight."

Roxas's eyes widened. "Well, I guess I could." His eyes shut for a moment and his brows furrowed as he thought. "Two men will be sitting at a table playing poker. One of them will toss his cards in the center of the table, and say, 'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had that ace up your sleeve. No one's that damn lucky.'" His eyes popped open. "That's when the other man will start to rise, and his hand will go to a gun he has in a holster inside his jacket. It's hidden because no one's allowed to wear a sidearm in the saloon."

"That's right," Axel said, **his** eyes narrowing on Roxas.

"So why don't you save me the bother of waiting until that happens and just give me their names?"

"Because their names won't be the same as in the story." Roxas said it so matter-of-factly, with such confidence; he had no doubt that was exactly what would happen that night.

Question was, why did Roxas need it to happen? To draw Axel to the saloon? For what purpose? What kind of con game was the boy working?

The whole time Roxas'd told the story, his face had been illuminated, as though relishing argument and the man drawing on the other gambler. The boy was a bloodthirsty little thing.

Axel hadn't had any plans on being in the saloon that night, but seeing as how Roxas wanted him there so badly, **he** was curious enough to make a point to be there. However, first **he'd** give Roxas a chance to come clean and his scheme. "Mr. Strife--"

"Roxas," he said, beaming at him. "I mean, I've already called you Axel."

Despite his suspicions, Roxas's name tugged at the corner of **his** lips--because the longer **he **knew Roxas, the more unsuited his name appeared to be. Axel shook **his** head. Damn, maybe **he** should just let his scheme play itself out. Axel changed **his** tack.

"You do know Ms. Dali id counting the seconds I remain in this room."

"I suppose you should go then." Roxas bit his lip.

"Is there anything else you need?" **he **asked softly. "Before I go?"

Another strawberry blush brightened on his cheeks. "I was just wondering why you did that…before."

**He** knew damn well what the younger teen was asking, but the devil in **him** made **him** want to force blonde to say it. "When I did what?"

Roxas's lips pouted with irritation. "When you kissed me."

Axel lifted one brow. "It seemed an easy way to shut you up."

Roxas's mouth gaped and fire leaped for a moment into **his** gaze. Just as quickly, Roxas gave him an assessing look. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

Axel let a slow, easy smile stretch **his** lips. "You think I didn't want to kiss you?"

"Well, I know I'm not fine-looking."

"That's true. But you've got gumption. Makes a man wonder how far it'll lead you."

Roxas's blue-eyed gaze glittered with dawning excitement, and he drew a deep breath and blurted, "Mr. Skye, what if I told you I wasn't a virgin?"

--

There will be some hot sex in the later chapters, so--keep reading.

Suggested Listening

Listen to 'Tokito Ami' she has a lot of great songs, and specifically 'Hatsumei Bijin to Pineapple' and 'Wonderful Summer Time'.

**Next Chapter Spoilers**

Axel froze, sucking in a deep breath. The thought Roxas'd given himself to another man clawed at **his** gut. **He** didn't know why the fact angered **him** so much--it wasn't as if **he** had a right to be jealous. Wasn't as if **he** knew anything about the boy, but **he'd** felt a connection the first time **he'd** held the blonde in **his** arms.

--

This one's longs and next one too…

Get your keyboards and review!


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